


I Can't Decide

by ATotalNightmare



Series: I Can't Decide AU [1]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Amputation, Anger, Angst, Anti-Hero, Blood, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Decapitation, Drowning, Gore, Hatred, Ink, Insanity, M/M, Mental Instability, Murder, Quite Literally, Tags May Change, This is NOT a fun fic, Violence, batim au, inaccurate depiction of mental illnesses, inaccurate depiction of mental instability, inaccurate insanity, probably, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-03-30 03:55:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19034263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ATotalNightmare/pseuds/ATotalNightmare
Summary: Joey was crazy, a monster. Everyone knew it, but not to the extent Wally did. Everyone saw a crazy boss who yelled at them and made impossible deadlines. But, Wally saw the truth. After all, he had to clean up the bodies and blood left behind by the madman and his crazy cult lead by Sammy Lawrence. Wally hated it. He wanted it to stop, he wanted the suffering to stop. He didn't want to see it anymore.So, he decided to take matters into his own hands.-"He had this look in his eyes that that made you wonder just how many people he's killed. And this... *grin* that made you realize he's probably lost count."





	1. Whether you should live or die

      Wally dipped his red-soaked mop back into the bucket, the already crimson water growing darker. He sighed, continuing to mop up the blood left behind. He already had gotten rid of the body, with the help of... the  _others_. Wally gulped, feeling neasous. No matter how many times he saw or did it, he could never get used to seeing dead bodies, or getting rid of them. Sure, he was more desensitized to gore more than others, but that didn't mean he  _liked_ it. Wally didn't think he ever could. Taking in a deep breath, Wally finished cleaning, making sure to set some flowers in here and some scented candles in there to try and get rid of the smell of death, rotting bodies, and blood. He left for the bathroom, quickly dumping the bloody water after he checked no one was there. Walking back out after refilling the bucket, Wally leaned against the wall, still feeling sick. He rubbed at his arm in an attempt to self-comfort, but to no avail. He breathed deep, in an effort  _not_ to throw up. He brought his hand up, brushing his long black hair to the side, adjusting his hat and drawing it more over his eyes. Wally stared down at the floor, as if finding it interesting. He ignored whatever odd or annoyed looks he got, and pretended he didn't hear the whispers, saying he was lazy, commenting on how he was so stuck up, or comments on how dirty and ratty his clothing was. Taking in another deep breath, Wally grabbed the cart that held the bucket and cleaning supplies, and rolled away, knowing there was something else to clean.

      Wally hated cleaning blood and bodies from the floor; any sane person would. But most of all, he hated one thing, one  _person_. Joey Drew. Now, Wally wasn't the type to hate another, or hold grudges. But Joey Drew... Oh, how he  _loathed_ the man. No, not man. Monster. No  _man_ could commit atrocities this horrible, Wally knew. One could argue that Wally was just as bad as the man, as he normally cleaned up after him and his cartoon-worshipping cult. But Wally couldn't control it. If he had the ability to, he would have dropped his mop, job, and ran to the police as fast as he could. But he  _couldn't_. Joey threatened him day in, day out, that if he didn't clean up after them, that if he told anyone of what happened at the studio, that he'd have the most painful death to ever experience, and an equally painful existance as an inky abomination. And it wasn't the death part that scared him; no, it was the painful existance as an ink monster. People were normally turned into toons, usually Boris clones, and sometimes, Alice Angel clones. The ones they had no use for were the ones that were most imperfect, or just an inky, skeletal person. Tossed to the side, either forgotten or tortured and experimented on. And that is what Wally feared most. He didn't want to be forgotten, or be experimented on. Even if he was killed and turned into one of those things, which was inevitable, he wanted to be remembered. Not as a Boris, but as Wally. But, even if he became something not worth looking at, what he hated seeing is everyones suffering. He hated seeing them cry, wanting to go home, begging to see their family again. That was specifically why Wally loathed Joey Drew. He wasn't afraid to make others suffer for his own gain, wasn't afraid of hurting others, and was so, so selfish. Wally  _hated_ selfish people, because they only did things for themselves, never for others. 

      Wally sighed heavily. Lately, he's been having darker thoughts that only spiraled downwards. He hated thinking negatively; pessimissim just wasn't his thing. But he knew that the studio affected him, just like everyone else. Wally remembered, at the beginning, when people were happy. Sammy hadn't been as tired before, and actually had been more understanding and reasonable. Norman had been nice, a lot like a grandfather. Henry... Henry had been there. Henry, Wally thought, had been a nice man, quiet, but nice. He'd been very thoughtful, and didn't treat him like garbage. Henry had actually forced him to go home many times when he saw him working late, as it'd been clear he was exhausted. But now, Henry wasn't there anymore. He'd left, years ago, back in the beginning of the studios creation, far before the creation of the Ink Machine. And Wally thought, maybe Henry leaving was Joeys straw that broke the camel's back. Before, even Joey had been nicer; sure, he had a habit of losing his temper and going off on people, but he was nicer. He actually  _apologized_ after he yelled at someone. Joey sure as hell didn't sacrifice anyone, and back then, Wally didn't need to clean up blood and bodies. But now... Joey was practically insane, no way to put it. Not a man, but a monster; a  _demon_. He was like a crazy supervillain in those Captain America comic books, so utterly close to it that, by now, there may as well be a superhero to stop him. But, that was it. There  _was_ no superhero to stop him. Comics didn't equal reality, and reality was so much worse than in comics. There was a supervillain, but no hero to stop them. Reality just didn't work that way. Unless...

 

_Unless he **made** it happen_.

 

      Wally gulped, stopping that thought. How could he, of all people, stop Joey Drew from hurting others? He was an unimportant janitor that got yelled at daily for losing his keys, so it was impossible to get anywhere near Joey. Joey was the type of person to pay attention to important people, and important people only. People that helped his studio thrive, people that helped him get to his goal, people that helped him make his cartoons come to life. And Wally wasn't any of those people. But... could he make himself important? He doubted it. Wally knew Joey well enough that the most important thing to him right now was making his cartoons come to life; literally. For whatever reason, it was the mans obsession. Joey tried time and time again to get real results, to make Bendy, Alice, and Boris come to life. But it never worked. Well, technically, it did, but they were always imperfect, using human souls or not. The only one who had come close to perfect was Susie, or rather, Alice. She was more humanoid, but she certainly looked like Alice, minus the floating halo. Wally knew she hadn't given her full consent, to become Alice, but she embraced it anyway. Wally admired her for that, as well as her being one of the only ones in the studio that was nice to him. But, whether or not she was close enough to the real thing didn't matter, not to Joey, anyways. Even she had her imperfections, and Joey would stop at nothing to get her to be as perfect as possible. Joey would stop at nothing to get his characters perfect, even going so far as murder to get it. And the only important people to Joey were the ones that helped him get human souls to make his creations real. 

      Wally paused. Could he do that? He discarded the thought again, quickly. He couldn't... he could  _never_ hurt another person, let alone  _kill_ them. And he would never, not in a million years, stoop to Joeys level. Sighing, Wally noted the thought, just in case. Wally continued walking, not seeing a single puddle on the floor, and he silently cheered. Good, no puddles to get yelled at for. Turning a corner, he noticed a metal door slightly ajar, and a light shone through. He stopped in front of it, and glanced around, and upon seeing no one around, walked inside, pushing his cart along. It was a tight squeeze, but Wally managed to get through. He looked around, seeing a fairly clean, barren room. There were a few shelves here and there, holding Bendy plushies and one or two bottles of ink. Nothing was out of the ordinary, or so Wally thought, before seeing something out of place. Chains were bolted to the wall, and as his gaze followed it, Wally nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight, and whatever it was that was the light source he saw from before.

      A black, inky, humanoid figure sat on it's knees, hunched, with it's arms held up by the chains, and it's legs also held down by chains. It's head... did it even  _count_ as a head? In place of it's head, was a projector, with wires protuding out of it, and connecting to it's back. And the scariest thing, was that it was staring directly at  _him_. Wally's heart raced, and he backed up, fear practically controlling his body. How the  _hell_ had he not noticed that thing?! He expected for it to start jumping at him, screaming,  _anything_... but it didn't. It just sat there, no movement, save for a curious tilt of the head. Wally gulped, moving away from the wall. It... didn't seem violent. He quietly stepped towards it, curiosity getting the better of him. Wally crouched in front of it, examining the creature. He couldn't help feeling bad for it. It was just... here, chained up, and it didn't even seem violent. It made no moves, no sounds, and all it did was look at him. Wally reached towards the projector that sat on it's shoulders, and the creature flinched back, as if expecting him to hurt it. Wally jumped himself, and regretted his actions. He held his hands up, as if in surrender. "H-Hey, hey, i'm not gonna hurt ya, okay? See?" He whispered his words, in fear of getting caught in here. The creature seemed to pause for a second, before relaxing. It's projector head twitched a bit, and it seemed to be taking in his appearance. Wally kept a friendly smile on his face, not wanting to seem unfriendly. "See? I'm not like on of those bad people. Quite the opposite, actually." The creatures head nodded once, clearly understanding, and a small noise came from the speaker in it's chest. Wally jumped at the sound, and as a result, the creature shook. But... it wasn't from fear. It seemed to be... amusement? Was it  _laughing?_ Wally playfully glared at the creature (he should really give it a name), crossing his arms in mock offense. "Rude." The creature laughed harder at the comment, before calming. Wally let out a breath. This thing wasn't so bad after all.

      Wally glanced at the chains holding it down, and stood up, the creatures gaze following him. "Hey, those can't be too comfortable, can they? Want 'em off?" The creature nodded frantically, almost excited. Wally grinned back, also feeling excited. He was doing something  _good_ for once! "Alright, be right back, i need somethin'!" Racing towards the cart, he quickly found the bolt cutters, and raced back. "Alright, i'm gonna need you to be still, 'kay? Don't want ya hurt cause of these things!" He snipped the bolt cutters twice in emphasis, remembering the time he accidentally cut himself with them. The creature, as a result, kept carefully still as Wally cut off the cuffs, first his arms, then legs. Wally kept the chains from crashing to the floor, and carefully lowered each one. Standing up, Wally admired his handiwork. He backed away just slightly as the creature stood to it's full height, towering over him. It rubbed at it's wrists and carefully balanced it's weight on pained ankles, but it didn't seem to mind. It simply seemed happy to be free. "You good?" Wally asked, and the creature nodded. Wally hummed, thinking for a second. "Alright, i'm gonna have to give you a name. Is that okay with you?" The creature seemed surprised, but nodded anyways. Wally thought, twirling his curly black hair for a second, before remembering something and coming to a conclusion. "Hey, is it okay if i call ya Norm?" The creature tilted it's head as if thinking, and nodded, satisfied with the name. The reason why Wally had chosen that name was because the creature reminded him of Norman. Norman used to sneak up on him and scare him quite a bit, and always snicker silently the way he did. Norman was the reason why Wally had gotten so good at picking up small sounds, and could tell when someone was behind him. Norman had a special place in Wallys heart. It hurt when he had to... clean up his decapitated body. 

      Wally rubbed the back of his head, wondering what to do now. He couldn't just let him follow him around, or leave him on his own, so... "Hey, do you think you could follow me around, but stick to the shadows? I don't want anyone seein' ya, but i don't wanna leave you alone, so..." Norm nodded his projector head. Wally sighed in relief, before he walked over to his cart, and pushed it through the gap between the jammed metal doors. Norm somehow managed to fit through the doors, but the projector noisily banged against the metal, making Wally cringe. Finally the noise stopped as Wally frantically looked around, making sure no one heard it or saw it. Thankfully, no one had, and Wally whispered to Norm. "Hey, go hide now. Make sure no one sees you, 'kay?" Norm nodded, before stepping into a room and hiding in the shadows. Wally sighed, before continuing on his way. His thoughts drifted to what had just happened, and what he'd been thinking before. So, he had just found a monster chained up in a random room, let it go, and decided to call it Norm because it reminded him of an old friend of his. His thoughts drifted further back to his previous idea about stopping Joey, however. This discovery... Wally felt anger burn his chest. How could Joey  _do_ this? To an innocent creature, nonetheless? Wally huffed, hatred burning through him. Joey... Joey drew was selfish. He knew that Joey was nothing but a greedy man, wanting nothing but power. His hands tightened around the handle on his cart. He would stop Joey. Even if it cost him his life, he would do it. 

      But, that was the question. How would Wally stop Joey? He knew the only way to get to Joey was to get his attention by helping his 'cause', but... He didn't really want blood on his hands. Unless... it wasn't  _him_ killing someone. Wally thought back to the projectionist. The Projectionist, Wally knew, wasn't human, and even though it could understand him, he'd... heard things from that room that told him it was still violent, even if it wasn't directed towards him. Before, when passing by that room, he'd normally hear loud static-like shrieking, and occasionally yelps of pain that told him the reason why Norm had been chained up. Norm was animalistic, even if it'd chosen to be nice to him. So... maybe, just maybe, Wally could get Norm to do the... killing instead of him. He still felt sick at the thought, and he felt sicker as he realized that the thought sent an odd thrill through him. Wally tried to ignore the feeling, telling himself that murder wasn't good, but that he had to do it, for the good of everyone in the studio. Wally thought, and realized, that Joey wasn't the only guilty person in the studio. There were several. Thomas was one of the main reasons why so many were suffering, Sammy, too. Even the ones who worked on Bendyland weren't innocent. He remembered hearing-and  _watching_ -people get trapped in those machines and dying. Wally vividly remembered when he had to clean up a bloody, gory mess after it had happened. He'd had to do that several times, actually. Lacie and Bertrum made those machines, so they weren't innocent when workers were killed in them. Thomas helped put pipes in the walls of the studio, helping ink flow throughout the building and thus, helping to make innocent people into inky abominations. Sammy... Sammy was the one who lead that cult. Or, at least, co-lead it. Wally had watched Sammy kill others too many times. Every memory was vivid; every scream, every cry, every shout of pain. Every time, it made Wally shudder. Sometimes, guilt swallowed him whole, and he could do nothing but cry in an empty closet. He told himself, all the time,  _you could have stopped it, you could have stopped them from killing others_. But...

 

Better late than never, right?

 

      Wally gulped, his stomach twisting in knots. He couldn't believe he would be doing this;  _killing_ someone, that is, indirectly or not. Murder was murder, no matter how you look at it. Wally wondered who to... who to go to first. God, he couldn't believe he was going to do this. He traced the scratch marks on the handle of the cart. Who would go first? He... wasn't sure. His mouth was dry, and he gulped again. Anxiety fluttered in his chest. Wally kept walking, not sure what to think of even his own thoughts. He was so distracted in his own thoughts that he didn't see the woman in front of him, and he crashed into her, yelping. Said woman cursed in pain holding her arm, and Wally quickly apologized, gathering up whatever items that she had dropped. "I'm sorry, i-i'm so sorry!! I didn't see you, at all!" Wally apologized profusedly, and the woman in front of him-Lacie, his mind supplied-sighed frustratedly, rolling her eyes and took the items from Wallys hands. "It's fine. You seemed distracted, anyways. Not very surprised, since youre the only janitor here, and you have to clean the entire studio... and from what i hear, fix pipes, too." Lacie's gruff, but kind, voice sounded slightly pained, but indifferent. Wally was surprised that she was so kind to him. Usually, if he bumped into people, they'd usually cuss him out and shout at him. But, then again, Lacie was never one to do either of those things. Hell, she was one of the only people that was nice to him. Lacie worked on Bendyland, and at that thought, an idea popped into his head. One that made his stomach churn. "H-Hey, uh, Lacie, right? Uh, you're a mechanic of sorts, right?" Wally asked, anxiety making his heart pound. Lacie hummed, nodding. "Uh, well, someone came to me, saying that the lift didn't seem to be working properly, and i can't find Thomas, so i was wondering if you could help me with it? I'm.. not really the best with mechanical stuff, unfortunately." He nervously rubbed the back of his neck, fiddling a bit with the band that kept his long hair up. Lacie seemed to think for a second, before replying. "Sure, why not. It's not like i have anything better to do. If the lifts not working, anyone could get killed on the thing." Relief filled Wally, but anxiety came in right after.  _If the lifts not working, anyone could get killed on the thing_. He took a breath, and followed Lacie to the lift. He can't screw this up. If he did...

      Lacie walked into the lift, and proceeded to open the latch above her. Wally had no clue what she was doing, and backed up a little. He looked behind himself, and saw the shadow of the Projectionist behind him. He gestured for him to come out, and he felt sick. The moment Norm came out and saw Lacie, a static-y shriek immediately emanated from the speaker in it's chest, and started sprinting towards the woman. Lacie backed up, screaming, and the moment the Projectionist stepped foot into the lift, a creaking sound followed, and then, a snap. Norm immediately backed from the lift as it disappeared underfoot, and Lacie's scream could be heard as the lift fell down, down, down, until a loud crash sounded, and it was suddenly too quiet. Wally felt sick, guilt and neasea swallowing him whole as he bent and fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face. He hyperventilated, breathing hard and fast. He felt... something rise in his chest, and Wally realized...

 

He was  _laughing_.

 

      Maniacal laughter spilled from his throat, and for some reason, he couldn't  _stop_. Tears still spilled down his cheeks, and he still felt guilt... but that feeling of pure  _glee_ wouldn't go away. Wally clutched at his shirt, and his cheeks hurt from smiling so wide. Eventually, his laughter dialed down to quiet giggles, and Wally shakily stood, messy hair falling over his face. He clutched his stomach, still feeling sick. Wally looked back up to Norm, who seemed to be slightly concerned and curious. A few tears dribbled down Wallys face. "G-Go hide, Norm. I... I Gotta go home. Won't be back 'til tomorrow, 'kay?" Norm simply nodded, and left, retreating back to the shadows. He wiped his face, the last of the giggles leaving him. The smile on his face simply didn't leave, though. For some reason... he didn't mind. Letting out a breath, Wally left, taking the stairs back up to the ground floor.

 

That day, Wally left feeling a horrible mix of guilt and glee.


	2. Oh, You'll Probably Go To Heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A look into Wally's daily life, and a new victim.

      Wally shuffled his feet nervously, fingering the mop handle. People were talking and muttering about the lift having fallen, killing Lacie in the process. Specifically, the fall had  _decapitated_ the poor woman. The lift had been damaged so badly that it still hadn't been fixed, and wouldn't be useable until next week. Wally let out a breath, gulping, and continued to mop up the ink left on the floor from a recently-burst pipe. The pipe had been fixed, so he'd been called in to clean the ink left behind. He quickly finished with practised skill, set the mop in the bucket, and walked off, anxiety twisting in his gut. No one knew that it'd been him who had caused Lacie's death. No one knew that he'd set a monster with a projector for a head on a poor, innocent woman who was just trying to do her job. But, Wally couldn't help but backtrack a bit on that thought. Lacie, in a way,  _wasn't_ innocent. She'd helped build contraptions that had caused employee's deaths, and even if it was indirect, she'd caused it anyways. Ever so slowly, Wally felt the guilt fade away. What he did was justified, right? One less guilty person in the studio was good. It meant he was bringing  _change_. Wally forced himself not to grin. He took a deep breath, calming himself. He couldn't be happy quite yet; after all, nothing serious had been done. Well, yet. 

      Wally continued to venture throughout the studio, mopping up ink spills, or taking out the trash. He made conversation here and there, and he avoided the topic of Lacie's death. FInishing cleaning up yet another ink puddle, Wally dropped his mop back into his bucket and leaned against the wall. He rubbed his eyes roughly, exhaustion flooding through him. It was already getting late, and most had gone home. Nothing bad had happened, and he secretly hoped that maybe, just this one time, Joey wouldn't call him to clean up another dead body. But, as his luck would have it, Wally heard Joey's voice calling his name. "Wally! There you are, i've been looking for you!" Joey's voice seemed to be permanantly holding that joy, as it always did, and the man came into Wally's view. Joey had the appearance of a stereotypical villain, in his opinion. With the black, slicked-back hair and piercing blue eyes, it really matched the description of 'villain' very well. Joey was even taller than him, despite Wally being one of the tallest people in the studio, next to the boss himself. Wally let out an annoyed breath. "You need me to clean up another body, Drew?" Wally asked, knowing the answer to his question. In response, Joey's smile turned into a smirk. "You guessed it! Now, c'mon. I'm sure you don't need me to tell you why." The man was already quickly striding down the hallway, and Wally almost had to jog to walk right behind him. Wally spoke up. "Joey... haven't you ever thought of any other solutions to this, other than, you know, killing people?" Wally knew he was being a hypocrite, but he needed to try, however in vain it was. "Wally, you and i both know there is no other way. I've tried, and trust me, i'm not happy with it either! But, we need to fulfill our dreams. I'm sure you understand that." Joey's voice held no remorse, despite his statement. Wally grumbled under his breath.  _Not happy about it my ass_... Joey stopped in his tracks, turning to stare at him. Fear immediatley coursed through him, making him stock still. "What did you say, Wally?" Joeys voice was calm, still holding the same tone, but Wally knew better. He knew what that tone meant. "N-Nothing, sir." Wally stuttered, gulping. Joey simply smiled, and turned back forward. "I thought so!" And thus, they moved forward again.

      By the time they had both gotten to the area that no doubtedly held the body, Wally had mentally prepared himself to meet blood and said corpse. The moment Joey opened the door, the stench of death and blood hit him in the face, and he cringed, almost gagging. Taking a deep breath, he walked in after Joey, and expected to see what was normal; a body and some blood spilling from a wound. But instead...

 

He came face-to-face with a massacre.

 

      Wally gagged at the sight, backing up, holding his hand to his mouth and nose. Tears budded in his eyes.  _Oh god_... Instead of seeing a mere pool of blood, there was blood  _everywhere_. It was splattered on the walls, and pooled beneath a body that had been gutted, intenstines hanging out from the corpse. Joey merely waved, as if inconvienienced. "Sorry for the mess; he put up quite a fight!" Wally gagged again, nearly throwing up. "A mess-?! Joey, that- H-He's been gutted like a fucking  _fish_ , Joey, a  _fish!_ How is that a mere  _mess_?! I can't- I-I can't clean this up, i- Oh, god, i'm gonna throw up-" Tears streamed down Wally's face, and he finally caved, bile spilling from his mouth. He leaned over, nearly falling, heaving. He leaned against the wall, knees buckling, and he slid down, the gagging slowly leaving until he was silently crying, hiccupping, the bitter taste of bile on his tounge. Sweat coated his face, dripping down his temples. He could hear Joey tut, as if in disappointment. "Wally, you should be used to this by now. You know you have to clean all this up; none of us want to touch a dead body ourselves." Anger burned in Wally's chest. He was supposed to be  _used to it?_ How could  _anyone_ be used to  _cleaning up dead bodies every day?!_ Wally glared up at Joey. "You're... You're a  _monster_." Venom laced his words, showing his hatred for the man. He didn't care if it got him killed; at this rate, it would be mercy. Joey simply shrugged, walking away with the other...  _cult_ members. "Maybe. But, it's what we have to do! Now, go clean up." Finally, Joey left, shutting the door behind him, leaving Wally in darkness, minus the dim lighting of the still-lit candles. Wally felt rage and disgust flow through him as he leaned back up again the wall. He struggled to stand, legs shaking. He wiped at his face, trying to rid it of the sweat that still coated it. Wally glanced at the bucket and the mop laying discarded beside him, and to the... the body in front of him. He gulped, taking a slow, deep breath. He could hardly stand to look at the corpse. But... Wally knew that if he didn't do what Joey said, that it would have consequences. So, he grabbed his mop, and went to work.

 

* * *

 

 

      Walking out from the room, Wally dragged his bloody bucket and mop behind him. He'd finally finished cleaning up that body (he'd learned that they'd been an unimportant animator), and he simply couldn't wait to get home and not sleep, or alternatively, have nightmares. Of course, he was being sarcastic. Sighing, Wally ran a gloved hand down his face tiredly, and set off to dump the water from his bucket and clean it. He dragged said bucket along the wooden floor, the sound making him cringe as the wheels squeaked. Seeing a bathroom in sight, Wally sighed in relief, knowing that he could soon  _not_ drag around a reminder of the hell he constantly lives in. But, before he reached said bathroom, he heard grunting, cursing, and squeaking, and Wally knew instantly that it was Thomas putting in, or fixing, a pipe. Making sure to leave behind his bucket and mop, Wally peaked around the corner into a room; specifically, the break room that was placed in the music department, right where he was. Thomas was screwing a bolt tight against a newly-implemented pipe, ink dripping down it's sides. Thomas's wrench slipped, and he nearly lost grip on it, almost falling right out of his gloved, inky hand. Wally whistled, amused. "Geeze, Tom, better be more careful. Ya could hurt yourself." Tom growled at him, clearly not as amused as Wally was. "Shut it, Franks. And it's  _Thomas_ , not Tom." Wally winced at the boorish remark, trying to ignore the sting it brought. He leaned back against the open door, watching Thomas work silently. After a couple seconds, Wally spoke up. "You... do know what the ink is used for, right? Y'know, what you're... essentially helping to do?" His voice was quiet, but it didn't shake like he thought it would. Thomas glanced back at him for a second, blonde hair and rough beard briefly in sight before the man looked back foward, continuing to screw in bolts. Finally, after a moment of silence, Tom answered. "Yeah, obviously." He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, like it didn't matter. Wally's face fell into a blank stare as he watched Thomas, anger just beginning to rear it's head inside of him. "You do? So why don't you stop it? Why not stop Joey from hurting others for his own gain?" Thomas snorted at his almost rhetoric question. "Cause it's impossible. You can keep dreaming, kid, but he ain't stopping any time soon." 

      A full-body twitch seized Wally. Suddenly, it's like his vision tunneled, and zeroed in on Thomas. Disbelief filled him, anger-no  _rage_ -right beside it. Wally stuttered out a single word. "...What?" Thomas visibly rolled his eyes, even though his face wasn't facing Wally. "You heard what i said. You know that no matter what you do, you can't stop Joey from getting what he wants. But, hey, if you have an idea, feel free to tell me." Wally's jaw tightened. Boiling rage shook every inch of him, as hot as fire and as overwhelming as water. He glanced around, spotting an axe sitting on the wall next to him. His lips formed into a small smile, an idea forming. Wally reached towards it, silently plucking it off the wall. He easily balanced it in his hands, the wood sturdy. "Well, i  _do_ have an idea that might just work." Wally spoke, silently taking a few steps forward. Thomas grunted. "And what would that be?" Wally's small smile formed into a wide grin, his expression now appearing almost maniacal. He held the axe carefully in his hands, tightening his grip on it. Finally, he answered the mechanics question. "By taking out the ones that help him." Thomas turned towards him, a questioning look on his face, and he noticed the axe in Wallys hands a second too late. Wally lunged, axe raised, and he brought down his axe in an arc, and he could feel the axe slice through flesh, through bone, and he could feel hot liquid splatter on his clothes, and a ear-splitting scream stung and scraped against his ears. He slammed a hand against Thomas's mouth, angrily shoving a knee into his gut.  _ **"Shut the fuck up!"**_   Wally growled, glancing back warily. He looked back down at Thomas, who had tears in his eyes, fear in his expression. Blood was pouring from Toms new stump of a left arm, and Wally could only think in disgust at the mess he had to clean up. Thomas below him whimpered into his hand, and Wally rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut up, stop whining." Hurt shined in Thomas's eyes, and Wally couldn't help but quietly laugh at it. "Aw, poor Tommy hurt? Well, what else did you expect from someone who crashed a lift?" A giggle escaped his throat upon seeing the look in Toms eyes. It was a mix of horror and anger, something Wally himself was familiar with. "You know... i know what you're feeling. When i first found out that Joey was killing people and i had to clean up after him... god, i was pissed. Still am, clearly. But, you know what?" Wally asked rehtorically, poking Toms nose. "You don't have to suffer through that. Oh, you wanna know a little...  _fact?_ " Wally's voice lowered, as if sharing a secret. "The name 'Connor' means 'lover of the twin dogs'." Wally quietly snorted, standing up. "If that's what your last name is... well..." A sick grin twisted itself on Wally's face, eyes dark. He raised his foot above Toms throat. "I guess that means i get to put down the dog." He slammed his foot down onto Thomas's throat, a sickening crunch following. The new amputee below him choked and hacked, holding his throat, before eventually stilling. Wally sighed.

 

"Ugh. Now i have to clean up this mess."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Sorry the chapter is a bit shorter than the last, but hopefully you enjoyed it nonetheless! By the way if you want a little description of what wally looks like: he has long black hair that's normally in a ponytail, wears dark overalls and boots with a collared shirt, and has long black rubber gloves. he also has blue eyes. kind of a,, sorta typical 'villain' look but tbh i've always seen wally like this aljnflj. anyways, more characters will be shown in the next chapter!

**Author's Note:**

> oof, that was quite an ending. sorry if it's very ooc, i thought of this ages ago and couldn't keep it away lajsnfl. and sorry if it goes by too fast as well, i'm still getting used to writing fanfictions! but hope you enjoy nonetheless!
> 
> edit: edited the summary a bit!
> 
> Pinterest board!  
> https://www.pinterest.com/ATotalNightmare/wally-franks-villainous-quotes-for-a-fanfiction/


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